


Happy

by PepperF



Series: Terminator AU [4]
Category: The Terminator (1984)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dog was called Dog. He smelled of dog, he slobbered all over the upholstery, and he ate like a horse, but Kyle had insisted. Sarah hadn't fought it that hard, to be fair – she quite liked the uncomplicated companionship – a friendly presence who didn't question their peculiar lifestyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy

The dog was called Dog. He smelled of dog, he slobbered all over the upholstery, and he ate like a horse, but Kyle had insisted. Sarah hadn't fought it that hard, to be fair – she quite liked the uncomplicated companionship – a friendly presence who didn't question their peculiar lifestyle. According to Kyle, they needed the animal as an early-warning system, in case any more Terminators were sent after them – but she'd seen the affectionate way he rubbed Dog's head, and wasn't fooled: he was becoming just as fond of Dog as she was.

The three-year-old German Shepherd was already trained when they'd bought him in a survivalist commune down in New Mexico. The owner had proudly displayed some of Dog's tricks: "Dog – maim!"

Sarah flinched as the arm was viciously ripped from a dummy, sending polyester stuffing flying. "Christ on a crutch. You want _this_ one?"

Kyle watched with professional interest at the dummy's dismembered torso was shaken viciously. "He seems well trained."

Sarah sighed, and unconsciously put a hand on her stomach – four and a half months now: she was beginning to feel heavy and awkward, and horribly vulnerable. She wondered how she'd feel as she got closer to her time. "Well, if you're sure..."

"Don't worry, miss," said the owner, cheerfully. He pulled a small child of indeterminate gender from behind him, detaching little hands that clutched stickily at his legs. "Watch this. Dog – baby!"

Before either of them could utter a word of protest, the huge, hairy, fanged creature had turned from the maimed dummy, bounded over, pounced on the kid – and started licking its face enthusiastically. The child laughed delightedly, put skinny little arms around the dog's neck and began to play-wrestle. Sarah and Kyle stopped short in their instinctive leap to intervene, and looked at one another. The man boomed a laugh at their expressions, and pulled the kid to its feet, the dog dancing happily around them. "Loves kids."

"Fucking hell," Sarah swore, weakly. "That nearly gimme a heart attack."

"Yeah," agreed Kyle, tersely.

"Remind me never, ever to give that order."

"Yeah."

"So you want 'im?"

Ten dollars later, and Dog was being loaded into their Jeep, along with a bowl and a frightening-looking muzzle. "Just in case," said the man, and winked at them.

"I'll shoot him 'fore he hurts you or the baby," Kyle said, calm and deadly serious, as they drove off. Sarah glanced at him, and then out of the window, swallowing.

They drifted aimlessly on through New Mexico, making contacts and avoiding the authorities. In Mesita, Kyle got a couple of week's cash-in-hand work as a laborer, and Sarah wrangled a job as a waitress, both using false names. Then they drifted on. 

"Kids these days," sighed Sarah, grinning, as Kyle got back into the Jeep somewhere in Catron, having just paid for their gas. "That little 'un just conned me out of four bucks for a Polaroid." She handed it over. Kyle turned the photo idly in his hands, and then froze. "Kyle? You all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's..." His voice cracked, and he swallowed and tried again. "It's my photo."

"Your photo?" Sarah didn't understand.

"The photo John gave me... The photo I told you about... The photo I fell in love with. _That_ photo."

Sarah's jaw dropped. She'd just watched the thing develop, two minutes ago. It seemed so... improbable, somehow. Such a tangible link to that other time. "Oh my god. Really?"

"Yes. No. No, not quite."

He stayed silent for a long time, staring fixedly at the glossy oblong. "Not quite?" she asked, finally. "You mean it's different? You said it was the same photo."

"Everything in it's the same. The light, Dog, the stuff around you, your hair, your clothes –" he glanced up, realizing with a shock that she'd been going around all day dressed as the woman of his dreams. Holy crap. He hadn't even noticed – how had he not noticed? He swallowed convulsively. "Everything but this," he said, and touched the glossy reproduction of her face. Sarah obviously hadn't noticed the photographer aiming a camera in her direction – she was gazing into the middle distance, her lips curled up in a slight, dreamy smile. "You don't look sad. In my photo, you looked sad. In this one, you look... you look happy."

Sarah looked at him thoughtfully, and then down at the photo he held in nerveless fingers. "Well, I kind of am happy," she said, eventually.

Kyle's fixed stare turned from the photo to the real woman. "You're happy?" He said it as if it was the most extraordinary thing he'd ever heard – which, for a time traveler from a post-apocalyptic future, was really saying something. Sarah smiled.

"Yeah, happy. It's not _that_ weird. I mean, a lot of bad shit has happened to me in the last few months, and I know there's a lot of fucking awful shit that might well happen in the not-too-distant future, but at the moment I'm... I'm just happy. I'm with you, we're alive, we're having a baby, the future isn't set in stone... Happy," she concluded with a shrug.

"Happy." It was suddenly all too much for Kyle. He dropped the photo and fled the Jeep, not caring that he was leaving it at a gas pump – it wasn't like the place was heaving with customers. He strode across the courtyard and around the corner of the little garage, dropping into a tight crouch, knees curled close to his chest, leaning back against the sun-warmed wall.

"Kyle? Dog – stay. Kyle, wait up." Of course she followed him. She wasn't intimidated by his occasional mood swings, or the constant shadow he carried around with him. "Kyle?"

"I'm fine." He wasn't even in the same timeline as fine, but the words were instinctive.

"Bullshit. Talk to me." She crouched in front of him, slightly awkward because of her growing bump, and tried to catch his eye – but he wouldn't look up. "Talk to me, Kyle. Is this about changing the future?"

"No."

She waited for more, but he wasn't about to make it easy for her. Finally she sighed in exasperation. "Well what is it, then?"

"You're happy?" The words were pulled unwillingly from him. "I mean, you're – you're really happy?" It was asked almost desperately, and she didn't answer straight away, trying to fathom why he was asking – and why he sounded so incredulous.

"Yes," she said slowly, putting as much certainty as she could into her voice. "I'm happy, being with you. There's a lot of things in this world that make me unhappy, and a lot of stuff that I'm worrying about and can't see a way to fix yet, and I can't say as I'd choose to live on the run – but being with you makes it all so much better." Kyle slid down the wall slightly so that he was resting on the ground. She moved closer, so he was forced to look at her. "I was thinking of you, when that kid took the photo," she told him. "Nothing in particular – just thinking of you, and how you make me feel. I don't know what the other me was thinking, but it doesn't matter. This me is happy, right now. With you." She grabbed his upper arm and gave him a shake and a slight smile. "Even when you're an idiot," she said.

He straightened his legs out in front of him, then, and reached out pulled her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin so that she couldn't see his face. She could, however, feel that he was trembling. "I make you happy?" It didn't seem like he could quite grasp the idea. But she got the feeling that it was a good shock.

"Yes. God, Kyle, how could you not know that? I'm crazy about you. Aside from the fact that you're a fucking hero, you're also the most wonderful person I've ever met. After everything you've lived through, the fact that you can be as caring and as gentle as you are is amazing. You're loving, and loyal, and strong, and passionate... And I love you so much it hurts."

She wasn't making him feel any more grounded. He squeezed her tighter, desperately needing something real to hold on to. "I'm not a hero," he protested quietly, sinking his face into her hair. "Everyone but you thinks I'm a psycho." God, she always smelled so good. He'd always wondered what the woman in the photo would feel like, smell like, taste like – and here she was, in his arms. Her hair was sun-warmed and soft against his lips. It was unreal. It was like he'd stepped right into one of his own dreams – except his own dreams had never been this good. "That psych doctor in the police station-"

"You came through time, knowing you could never go back, risking your life, to save the human race. Sounds pretty goddamn heroic to me." Her voice was muffled but vehement. "The police psychiatrist didn't know you. None of them could see the real you. They don't know what you've gone through, what you've had to do, and they don't know the truth. They wouldn't want to understand, and they certainly aren't likely to believe. Hell, all this time travel and killer machine stuff sounds nuts to me, and I know it's true." She leaned back, so she could meet his gaze. He looked a little wild-eyed still, but he was listening intently. "But it's not that that makes me happy. Grateful, yes. Amazed beyond belief, yes. Fucking scared as hell, yes. But _this_ is what makes me happy." She wrapped her hand around his arm. "Listen and understand, Kyle Reese," she said, lovingly mocking. "No one I've ever met has ever looked at me the way you do – like you can see all the way through to my soul. You touch me like I'm the most precious thing on Earth. You hold me and look in my eyes, like you are now, and I know you're right there with me. Never, in my entire life, have I ever felt so loved – never known it with every breath I take, like I do now. And you're surprised that I'm happy? I mean, jeez, Kyle, what's better than love? Most everyone would give up anything for it."

"I did." The soft words took her by surprise, and she thought about it.

"Yeah, you did," she said, thoughtfully. "Now I gotta ask you something about that. I've been thinking on it for a while..." She paused, not sure if she wanted to continue with her question. Kyle just looked steadily at her, waiting for her to spit it out. She sighed. "Okay, but remember: you started this. Are you happy?" He looked startled, and she glanced at him, raising her eyebrows and waiting for an answer. "Truthfully?"

"Happy... happy is complicated." Sarah huffed in irritation at his evasion. 

"Specifics, then. When you woke up this morning, what was the first thing you thought?" Kyle thought back. They'd slept in the Jeep last night, curled together in the back with Dog in the front seats. Of course, he got up several times during the night, to check the perimeter, but he knew what she meant – he'd fallen into a deeper sleep sometime in the early hours, and they'd woken up together in the morning. He'd awoken with his face against the back of her neck, and her body spooned up to his, pressed close in an instinctive search for warmth through the cold desert night. She'd been wrapped tightly in his arms, and his body's natural reaction to her softness and warmth had been a pleasant way to wake up, particularly when she'd deliberately snuggled back... The corner of his mouth turned up, and Sarah caught it, reflecting back a smile of her own. "Oh yeah, of course – I remember what you were thinking," she said, her smile widening into a grin. "See, some bits of you are happy, at least. How about now? How d'you feel now?"

Kyle thought about it, trying to analyze his emotions – something he wasn't used to doing. He absently brushed a hand down her hair, cupping the back of her neck. "I don't know," he said, finally. "I'm not unhappy. I love you. I want to be with you. I just..." He turned and stared out at the landscape beyond the tiny oasis of the gas station, vast and unbroken by anything but sagebrush and rocks for miles and miles. He'd never seen a landscape so empty, not until he came here. He wondered if there were untouched parts of his world – places so arid and desolate that neither men nor machines had bothered to fight over them. He couldn't imagine it, but then he hadn't exactly been sightseeing. "I'm not sure I know how to be happy. It's... it's not that simple."

"Okay..." Sarah could accept that, but wasn't going to let it drop. After all, she'd never said that she was happy all the time, every minute of every day. Just that, on average, she was doing pretty well – and that he was a major factor in that. "It's just that – well, you came on this mission not expecting to live through it. Right?" His lowered eyes answered that question. "But you did. And now you're... well, you're kinda stuck with me, aren't you? I mean, I'm your assignment – it's not like you can just up and leave. You've gotta protect me."

Kyle tipped his head to one side, frowning, his intent green eyes flickering over her face analytically. "You think I'd just bail on you, otherwise?" 

"No! No, but... well, it can't exactly be what you were expecting. You and me, I mean. And – and fatherhood... It's not your standard mission. You don't get trained for this stuff. I wonder sometimes if you feel trapped."

"Trapped? Shit, Sarah, seems I'm not the only idiot around here. Being with you is... it's the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to me, by about a thousand billion miles. And you're worrying about me feeling trapped. Christ." He took her hand, and held it, rubbing his thumb rhythmically back and forth across her knuckles. "I'm not too good at this relationship stuff, am I? At telling you how I feel, I mean."

Sarah shrugged. "I say you've got some pretty good excuses for being bad at relationships," she said, ready to forgive him anything when he touched her so gently.

"Still... if you ever start wondering stuff like that again, just ask me straight out, right? I won't pick up on it otherwise. I was never too good at getting people. Robots and cyborgs, they're much easier to understand. Much simpler programming."

Sarah grimaced. "Yeah. 'You human, me kill you,'" she said, dryly.

"Mmf." He pulled her close again, and she went willingly, happy just to hold him and be held by him for a long, still moment in their endless flight. "I lost that photo," he finally murmured quietly. "The one I used to have. There was an attack – first time I saw one of the new-style Terminators up close and personal. There was a big fight, I got injured, dropped the photo, the flames caught it... then one of those bastards was standing over me, and I knew I was gonna die. I was gonna die in the next few seconds, and all I could think was that I'd lost the only photo I had of you. Stupid, huh?"

Sarah had wrapped her hands tightly around his, and kept her head dipped below his chin, glad that he couldn't see the tears standing in her eyes. He didn't like it when she got emotional about his life – it made him look uncomfortable and somehow guilty, and generally made him clam up and change the subject. And her damn hormones were on the rampage a lot, lately. "You can hardly expect me to think that's stupid, now can you?" she asked, pleased she'd kept her voice steady.

"Guess not." His hand ran down her hair, across her shoulder, and down her back in a long, soothing stroke.

"Kyle, that's gone now – that future. The photo proves that. Something's different, something we did changed it." She blinked the tears away and sat up, putting a hand to her bump. "Something tells me it's a good change." Kyle looked down and grinned wryly. "What?"

"It's just... John always used to talk about that sort of thing," he said. "You know – important events, changes, moments, history, future – all that. Used to drive us all nuts when he went cryptic – the knowing look in his eyes when he'd tell us what would happen. Guess he started young. Real young."

Sarah looked down in startlement at her stomach, and then smiled and gently patted the place where the putative Yoda rested. "Know-it-all," she whispered, chidingly.

Kyle rubbed her back briskly. "Can we get up now? I think I'm losing the circulation to my legs."

She cuffed his ear and moved up and away from him before he could react. "Don't give me lip, kiddo – sitting in the dirt was your bright idea. Come on, Dog'll be worrying."

He got to his feet with an exaggerated groan. "You're getting heavy, woman."

"And whose fault is that?"

"John's," he returned, smoothly.

"Smartass."

Sarah went to pay up, ignoring the curious looks of the garage owner and the kid with the camera. When she came back to the Jeep, Kyle had picked up the photo again. He didn't seem as freaked as earlier, but he was still examining it with more intensity than a casual snap might warrant. She leaned against the side of the Jeep and glanced at the photo over his shoulder. "What d'you suppose changed?" she asked. He gave her a long, sideways look, not answering, and she knew instinctively what he was thinking. She shivered, and remembered an expression her mother had often used: like someone had just walked over her grave. Or, more precisely, _his_ grave. God, that tangle with the Terminator could so easily have ended much, much worse. He tucked the photo just behind the rear-view mirror, her smile and Dog's amiably blank look peering out. Sarah turned suddenly, and yelled, startling Kyle. "Hey, kid! Get over here!"

The little boy with the camera gave a bright grin, and scurried over. "Sarah..." Kyle said warningly.

"I want a photo of me and him," Sarah explained to the child, gesturing between herself and Kyle. "You understand, kid?"

"Sarah, it ain't-"

"Shut up, Kyle," she said calmly, not looking in his direction. The soldier in him responded instinctively to the note of command in her voice. "Put your arm around me." The kid said something in Spanish, holding the camera up to his eye. "Say 'cheese'," said Sarah, guessing at a translation.

"Cheese?"

There was a bright flash.

They drove away, leaving a kid happily richer by eight American dollars. Kyle watched the photo as it developed, then handed it to Sarah, who glanced at it as she drove. In the picture, she was grinning mischievously. Kyle, with one arm slung over her shoulder, was looking at her with a bewildered expression... and the beginnings of a smile on his lips. Dog peered over their shoulders. She put the photo on her knee, and grabbed for one of the pens that rattled around the car, pulling the top off with her teeth. She scribbled briefly, recapped the pen, and stuck the photo in the windshield next to the first one. Kyle leaned forward and read aloud what she'd written on the white strip along the bottom:

"Happy family."


End file.
